


shake me down

by milkteeth



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkteeth/pseuds/milkteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s so far gone on Nick, feels like he has been for ages. It’s all he wants really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shake me down

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember if Harry was on a flight the week before Tinie Tempah's GQ dinner but for the sake of the story, he was. Inspired by this picture which kind of maybe vaguely looks like Nick has a hickey. http://www.londoncollections.co.uk/gallery_overlay.aspx?albumid=188#32

It’s Nick’s idea that they go to the GQ party together. 

“It’ll just be easier,” he explains, and Harry grins down the phone where he knows Nick can’t see him.

“Yeah, easier,” he echoes, desperately hoping Nick will take him home tonight and they’ll be able to finish off where they started the week before, when they ended up drunkenly swapping hand jobs on Nick’s sofa, right before Harry had to get on a seven-hour flight. 

They’ve talked since then, but Harry hasn’t broached the subject. It didn’t seem like the right time, he supposes, but he has a feeling about tonight. Like Nick will decide he wants him again, and take him home and have his way with him. He’s so far gone on Nick, feels like he has been for ages. It’s all he wants really.

**

“Hey,” Harry says as he climbs into the taxi where Nick’s waiting outside his house.

Nick answers without looking up from his phone and Harry’s hopes are only slightly dashed when he doesn’t immediately shove him back against the door and kiss him. It gets worse when they arrive and Harry spies the faint hickey peeking out from Nick’s shirt. 

It’s not like he’d expected anything from him, it’s not like they’d even talked about it after all, but he still feels betrayed somehow, cheated on almost. That thought scares him, how far gone he is on Nick and he shakes his head clear of it. Tries his best not to think about it and tells himself it doesn’t matter anyway, he’ll still be the one going home with Nick at the end of the night.

Harry’s still slightly grumpy for the rest of the night though, refusing to get up and dance with Nick when he tugs at his arm later.

“Come on, don’t be a spoilsport,” Nick teases, and Harry just shakes his head mildly, turns back to James who he’s mid conversation with at their table. He doesn’t miss James’ look of confusion as his gaze flits between them, following Nick as he shrugs and turns to wander over to where Tinie's talking to Michael McIntyre in the corner. He doesn’t say anything about it though, and Harry’s glad for it. Returns the conversation instead to Max and how big he’s getting already, how he can nearly walk on his own.

**

They end up alone at the table by 10:30, when everyone else has already gone home to their families or disappeared to talk to someone else. 

Harry’s eyes flit down to the red-purple mark sitting at the base of his throat. He wonders idly if Nick would tell him who it was if he asked. If he’d even want to know. He swallows and tips his beer to his mouth, glances back out at the room and hopes he’s not being too obvious again.

“Hey,” Nick’s voice is soft and slurred at the edges calling his attention back, and even through Harry’s own drunken haze he can tell the effects of Nick’s second beer are starting to settle into his system. “It’s getting kind of late and I’ve got to be at work tomorrow so…” Harry takes his chance when he sees it. 

“I’ll come with you,” he pauses. “I mean, I’m kind of jet lagged still and I don’t think I can get home on my own now,” he stumbles over his ‘t’s a little as he says it.

For a second he thinks Nick’s going to tell him no, that it’s not a good idea or he’s too old to be hosting late-night sleepovers for teenage pop sensations, even ones as cute as Harry. The thing is though, Harry doesn’t really want to go home either. Being in One Direction means he ends up spending most of his time travelling around the world, on flights or in hotels. When he gets back to London, he wants something familiar. Nick’s house is familiar.  
Nick is familiar.

“Okay, hold on though,” Harry watches as Nick stands and walks across to the bar where James is chatting to a woman with brown hair. Her back is turned so he can’t make her out from here. Nick leans over, effectively cutting off their conversation, to murmur something in James’ ear. His gaze snaps to Harry and he nods mutely at whatever Nick’s saying. 

Harry stands too then, turns away and swills the rest of his beer, places the bottle carefully on the table next to him. Someone brushes past behind him quickly and he stumbles, nearly knocking into the table when someone’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder, steadying him. When he turns to see who it is, he only gets halfway before Nick’s mouth is at his ear, breath warm and heavy against his neck. His long fingers are still curled tightly around his shoulder.

“James is going to take you out and make sure you get into the taxi okay. I’m leaving now,” he squeezes Harry’s shoulder once and moves back into the throng of people, heading to the door.

Disappointment settles thickly at the bottom of Harry’s stomach as he watches Nick walk away. He suddenly feels very young and very stupid. Of course Nick wouldn’t want him coming over when he has work in the morning. The thing last time was a one time thing, Harry guesses that’s clear now. Still it hurts. He knows Nick doesn’t do relationships, has been told that enough by Nick’s friends but it’s not like he even wanted that. He wanted- he isn’t even sure what he wanted. He just wanted Nick, or whatever Nick would give him. He supposes if that’s all it was he would just have to deal.

James comes over a moment later and takes Harry’s arm gently, pulling him through the crowd and towards the exit. Harry lets himself be led out to the street, doesn’t even bother to try and act sober when James takes his hand and drags him past the paps waiting outside. James opens the door of the cab for him and Harry folds himself into the seat clumsily, shakes his hair out and pulls his fringe back from his eyes. His head lolls back onto the headrest and he huffs out a breath, willing himself not to pull out his phone and text Nick, try to apologise or something dumb like that. It’s only when he hears James give the driver the address that he stops, tilting his head up to look at James quizzically.

“You’re alright mate,” he nudges Harry’s shoulder with his fist and slams the door closed.

**

By the time the cab pulls up in front of Nick’s, Harry’s stomach is churning. Whether from nerves or excitement he can’t tell. He ends up banging on the front door too loudly before realising and looking around sheepishly, hopes he’s not woken anyone up.

When Nick opens it, he’s already changed into a soft grey t-shirt. He’s got his glasses on and his hair looks mussed, like he ran his fingers through it several times before he got here. Harry wants to wrap himself around him immediately, nuzzle his face into the fabric of his shirt, see if it’s as soft as it looks. Instead he grins and pushes past Nick to get inside, pulling his jacket off and hanging it on the hook by the door, next to Nick’s.

“So,” Harry says, turning to Nick as he locks the door. Nick looks back at him and smirks.

“Do you want a drink?”

**

They end up sprawled on the sofa, sipping at cheap red wine because it was the only thing Nick could find in his cupboard, and watching whatever’s on TV. Harry thinks it could be a rerun of Friends but he can’t be sure because he’s barely paying attention, too busy concentrating on the heat of Nick’s thigh where his feet are resting and wondering if it would be the wrong thing to reach out and stroke his jaw, feel the stubble there. 

Every so often Nick will make a snarky comment about whatever they’re watching and Harry will laugh or nod when appropriate. He keeps half expecting Nick to suddenly turn to him though, and say ‘oh by the way, do you want to have sex now?’ or put a hand on Harry’s thigh and lean in. 

Finally Nick stands, pushing at Harry’s feet so they fall to the floor, and stretches his arms out.

“You okay to sleep out here then?” he’s looking at his watch while he says it and Harry feels his face fall. Nick glances at him, swallows and shifts his gaze away like he knows exactly what Harry’s thinking.

Harry stays silent. “Do you want a blanket or something? I can go and get you a-“ he’s about to turn to the cupboard when Harry interrupts.

“If you don’t want this you can just tell me.”

When he glances up, Nick’s looking back at him and Harry can’t quite read the expression on his face. He looks back down at his lap where he’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt where it’s come untucked.

“Don’t mess me around, Nick,” he mumbles, decidedly quieter but still loud enough for him to hear. A moment later he feels the couch dip next to him and Nick’s hand come to rest on his forearm, cautious. Harry looks up and Nick’s staring at him so intently he can’t help but let out a tiny shiver.

“I’m not trying to mess you around,” he says seriously, then sighs and pulls his hand away, scrubs at his face heavily. “That’s exactly what I didn’t want to do.” Harry feels slightly guilty now, seeing how spun out Nick looks about this. He reaches out and places his hand above Nick’s knee, and it’s meant to be comforting but Nick turns to him and his eyes are darker than Harry’s seen them before.

“It’s okay if you don’t want this. If the last time was a mistake-“

Nick cuts him off with a sharp laugh, “trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, but keeps his hand resting on Nick’s thigh. He shuffles closer slowly, makes sure Nick has the chance to stop him if he wants to. Nick doesn’t stop him though, just watches Harry as he leans closer, pausing in front of his mouth, their breaths mingling so Harry can smell the faint peppermint mixed with wine on Nick’s, like he cleaned his teeth earlier. 

It’s Nick who finally closes the distance though, leans in and sets his mouth carefully against Harry’s. It’s relaxed at first, unhurried, but Harry gets impatient and licks at Nick’s lips for him to open them. He presses his tongue in to fit against Nick’s and stifles a moan. Things move more quickly from there, as Harry presses Nick back so he’s straddling him on top of the sofa, dragging his mouth down to place kisses at his jaw. Harry leans back to look at Nick when he strokes a hand down his side, his breath already uneven. 

“I don’t,” Nick starts, and Harry leans down, nips at his throat and Nick sucks in a breath. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want,” he breathes out, and Harry stops, tilts his head back up towards Nick and looks at him blankly.

“I just want you. Or,” he amends, “whatever you want. I want that.” 

Nick watches him for a moment, before leaning up and seals Harry’s lips in a kiss, and Harry’s surprised at the tenderness of it. He places a hand on the curve of his back to pull him in close and Harry shudders, presses closer still, as close as he can, pushing his thigh between Nick’s. They stay like that for a little while, draped over the couch and rutting against each other. Nick pushes a hand into Harry’s curls and scratches his fingers against his scalp and Harry can’t help it, he practically purrs, nuzzles closer into Nick’s neck where he’s pressing small kisses. 

“Bedroom,” Nick murmurs into his ear and Harry twists his head up.

“Carry me?” he beams, eyes bright, and Nick rolls his eyes.

“Get off me you little minx,” he pushes against his chest, not with any real intent though, and Harry complies. 

He stands and waits for Nick, follows him down the hallway. He restrains himself from reaching out and grasping his hand, unsure if it would be too much, and settles for undoing the button of his pants, relieving the pressure from where his cock is pulling the fabric tight across his crotch. When they get to Nick’s bedroom, Harry doesn’t waste any time shedding his dress pants and shirt, leaving him only in his underwear. He crawls into the middle of the bed and watches Nick as he grabs lube and a condom out of the bedside drawer.

Harry swallows because this is new. 

It isn’t that Harry has no experience with guys, but he’s never done that either. The last time with Nick it was drunken heavy petting under the covers and fumbled handjobs that ended with a vaguely awkward morning after and Harry wondering what it all meant. It isn’t that Harry’s never thought about it either. In fact, after last time, sex with Nick’s pretty much all he’s been able to think about.

At seeing Harry’s face when he turns around, Nick stops. “We don’t have to,” he says immediately and Harry shakes his head. Now that it’s been offered, at least in a way, he wants it, badly.

“No, please. I want you to.” Nick straightens and walks toward him, the look on his face surprised, almost like he hadn’t really expected Harry to go along with it.

“Have you ever, before?” he asks, and Harry shakes his head.

He kneels up to reach for Nick’s glasses, takes them off carefully and places them on the bedside table. “I want to, though. I want you to.”

“Okay,” Nick says, guides Harry gently back onto the pillows and slips between his legs. He drops the condom and the bottle of lube onto the pillow next to them and Harry leans up, impatient, kisses at his jawline and jerks his hips up, testing. They both gasp at the sudden close contact, their cocks sliding against each other through the fabric. Harry scrambles for Nick’s pants then, desperate to get more friction.

“Too many buttons,” Harry whines as he fumbles with the clasp, and Nick bats his hands away, sits back on his legs to do it himself. He scrambles out of them, throwing them somewhere across the room and Harry tugs at his shirt, pulling it up and off him.

Nick leans back down to suck at his collarbones, leaving tiny red marks in the wake of his kisses. Harry moans at the thought of being marked up by Nick, likes the idea of people being able to see the evidence of his presence there, even if they don’t really know. Nick moves down, traces the outline of a swallow with his tongue and grasps at Harry’s hip, holding him down as he dips his head further to mouth at the outline of his cock through his underwear. Harry’s hips thrust upward of their own accord so that Nick has to press harder, clutching his hip tighter as he tugs at Harry’s underwear, pulling them down to his thighs and watching as his cock smacks back against his stomach, pre-come leaking at the tip he’s so hard already.

Harry can’t look away as Nick leans in close, breath hot against his cock, before licking a stripe from the base right to the tip. Finally he puts his lips around him, taking him in halfway and Harry’s eyes flicker shut, head pressing back into the pillow and arching upwards. He moans as Nick sinks down further, one hand still on his hip holding him down, the other resting on his thigh, stroking at the milky skin there. 

His mouth on Harry’s cock is almost too much, feels so good, and he doesn’t want to come before Nick’s inside him. He reaches for the lube and shoves it towards Nick desperately, hoping he gets the idea because Harry doesn’t trust himself to talk right now. Nick pulls off Harry with an obscene pop and takes him in his hand instead, stroking him once before uncapping the lube and slicking up three fingers.

He watches Harry as he does it, like he’s making sure this is what Harry still wants. He opens his mouth and Harry can tell he’s going to ask so Harry pre-empts him.

“I want what you want, remember,” and when that doesn’t quite seem to satisfy him he sits up, presses his lips to Nick and with a smirk says, “Please fuck me, Nick.” 

Nick’s hips jump at that. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, Harry Styles,” he pushes Harry back down, legs flopping open for Nick to settle between. He presses one finger to his hole just lightly, and Harry can’t help but let a small whimper escape. It’s slow going at first, with Nick pressing just the tip of his index finger in, loosening him up before sliding his finger in up to the knuckle.

“Okay?” Nick asks, and Harry moans in response, manages to get out a ‘more’ and he hears Nick huff out a laugh before pulling out and pressing another finger in alongside the first. It feels so good, even just Nick’s fingers, and Harry can’t help but press back further, wanting to feel more inside him. He clutches Nick’s shoulder, mumbles a ‘kiss me’ and Nick leans down, presses his tongue into Harry’s mouth as he continues to loosen him up, scissoring his fingers slowly and pressing just the tip of a third finger to his hole. 

“Unnnh,” Harry whines, fucking himself back onto Nick’s fingers as Nick takes him in hand again, strokes his cock and thumbs at the tip. He feels overwhelmed, the pleasure starting to take over and a familiar warm feeling settling low. He reaches up, gets a hand on Nick’s own cock still straining through his underwear and presses at the wet patch in front. Nick’s grip on Harry’s cock stutters and he thrusts towards Harry.

“Nick, can we- I’m going to come soon if we don’t-“

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, stroking Harry to distract him as he pulls his fingers out, grabbing for the condom. His hands are slippery so Harry takes the foil package from him, ripping it open as Nick fumbles with his underwear. Harry sits up to roll the condom onto him, watching Nick as he does, notices how heavily he’s breathing, like he’s overwhelmed, too, and Harry’s glad he’s not alone in that. 

He settles back as Nick slicks himself up and Harry closes his eyes, feels the nudge of Nick’s cock as it settles against his hole.

“I’m going to go slow, okay?” Nick tells him, and Harry can only nod, trying not to clench down as Nick starts to press in. 

It hurts. Harry clutches tightly at Nick’s shoulders as he fills him up slowly. He pauses when he’s pushed all the way in, leans down to press a kiss to Harry’s mouth, licks at Harry’s bottom lip until his grip on Nick’s shoulders starts to loosen. 

“M-move,” he stutters and Nick pulls out slowly, just halfway, then pushes back in a little faster. It hurts less this time, feels good, even and Harry jerks up to meet his next thrust, slowly working out a rhythm between them.

“Harder,” Harry manages, and Nick pushes back with more force this time, making Harry whine as he hits his prostate. Nick grunts and angles up, pushes in again. Harry can feel the sensation start to build and he doesn’t think he’s going to last much longer. 

“Nick, I-“ he stammers, and Nick reaches down to stroke his cock, his pace matching his thrusts so that Harry can barely hold in a whimper as his own thrusts falter. 

Nick shoves into him harder, jolting Harry backwards and the combination of Nick driving into him plus his hand tight around Harry’s cock is too much. Harry comes right before Nick as he shoves into him hard a final time, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Nick does his best to stroke him through his orgasm, his pace erratic as comes down from his own. 

They stay like that until their breathing evens out, their chests lined up and Nick still inside him, Harry clutching at Nick’s shoulders as he calms down. Finally Nick pulls back, watches Harry carefully as he pulls out of him with a mumbled ‘sorry’. Harry watches him disappear into the bathroom to get rid of the condom and he comes back with a damp washcloth, wipes the come off Harry’s stomach gently as he lies there watching, too boneless to do anything else.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, gaging Harry for a reaction. Harry manages to sit up at this, reaches his hand out to touch Nick’s cheek. 

“Yeah, yes. Thank you,” he says and Nick looks away momentarily.

“D’you want to cuddle?” he asks, and Harry lights up at this, nodding as Nick drops the cloth onto the bedside table and settles in next to Harry, tugging him close.

They lie silent for a while, Nick stroking at Harry’s arm and vaguely whining about how he has to be up in four hours. Harry cuddles closer and ponders how easy it would be to sneak into work with him tomorrow.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he admits finally as Harry trails his fingers down Nick’s chest, stroking at the hair there.

“Said what?” he murmurs sleepily.

“You know,” Harry notes that he sounds vaguely embarrassed, “that they just- wanted me or whatever. Never that blatantly at least.”

Harry furrows his brow, curls a little tighter into Nick’s side, “yeah, well, it’s true.” And Nick doesn’t have anything to say to that. Instead he runs a hand up Harry’s back, warm and reassuring. Harry shivers into his touch, wonders if waking up early and making breakfast for them tomorrow morning would be pushing the boundaries of whatever this is. 

Nick leans down and presses a kiss to his hair, curls his fingers around Harry’s hip and strokes at the small bruise forming there from where he’d gripped his hip too tight, and he thinks maybe that would be okay.


End file.
